


The King is Dead

by Ribby



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-06
Updated: 2003-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29946486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribby/pseuds/Ribby
Summary: What can a king do when he's no longer king?
Relationships: SB/VM





	The King is Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks: To [](https://karelian.livejournal.com/profile)[**karelian**](https://karelian.livejournal.com/) , for good conversation and general badgering, and to [](https://viva-gloria.livejournal.com/profile)[**viva_gloria**](https://viva-gloria.livejournal.com/) , whose slash/flash on the same topic inspired me (though she doesn't know it!)  
> Notes: The quote at the beginning is, of course, from Shakespeare's _Macbeth_. So, for that matter, is Viggo's first line.  
> 

_"When shall we [two] meet again?_  
_In lightning, thunder, or in rain?_  
_When the hurly-burly's done_  
_When the battle's lost and won."_

The words echo oddly in the small room, coming out flat. Sean looks at himself in the mirror--no longer a king, just a man looking older than his time. It's over--after almost six months, finally over. No more will Macbeth tread the boards of the Albery theatre...and Sean can finally go home.

The door cracks open,

"Hail, king! For so thou art." Viggo's odd accent wraps around the words like a lover.

Sean winces. "Not any more, Vig. I'm done with kingship."

Viggo lightly rests his hands on Sean's shoulders, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "And are you glad of it?"

"Yeah, mate, 'course I am. Be nice to have myself all to myself for a while, y'know? I was getting bloody tired of sharing space with the murdering git every night." His teeth gleam white in a sudden smile. "Besides, there's only room for one king, right? My king, my captain?"

Viggo laughs out loud. "God, you won't let go of that, will you Bean? Will I ever be anything else to you?"

Sean's smile fades, as he turns his chair to face his friend. "That depends. But no matter what, you'll always be my king, Vig. I'm serious on this one."

"Who's your king, baby?" Rattled by the complete seriousness of Sean's tone, Viggo tries for levity.

But Sean won't let him. Regardless of the fact that he's still half in costume, he slides (gracefully, Viggo notes) to his knees in front of Viggo, and offers up his clasped hands. "We never got to do this... and now that I'm no longer King and just a Steward, it's only right." His voice shifts and softens, slipping back into cadences he'd thought long forgotten.

"I swear to give my lord, my captain, and my king my arms, my body and my heart, for good or ill, until such time as he shall have no further need of them or death shall take me from him... this do I, Boromir son of Denethor, swear to you, Aragorn Elessar." His eyes are solid green, flashing like peridot.

A short, sharp pause, and then Viggo's warm, paint-flecked hands slide around his. His own voice sliding into Aragorn's cadences, Viggo meets Sean's oath, as is a king's duty.

"I accept this oath, and promise in turn shelter and safety of my arms and my armies... and of my heart, until death or time shall take me from him. So say I, Aragorn Elessar." And Viggo brings their clasped hands to his lips and kisses them, sealing the vow.

But Viggo being Viggo, the serious mood doesn't last long. Without dropping Sean's hands, he comments, "Ah, now there's the proper place for a steward..serving his king, on his knees."

Sean snorts. "I'll serve _you_ , ya pervy American bastard." And he shifts his weight onto his knees, so that when Viggo tugs his hands to pull him up, he is instead drawn forward... so that his face stops inches from the noticeable rise in Viggo's jeans. "Serving my king, I believe you said, my liege," Sean says softly, making sure that his voice is felt as well as heard.

Viggo's breath catches... this is more than he'd expected. And somehow all the play has gone out of it--this, he knows, is serious. God, how he wants to... just take. Freely offered, freely taken. But not here--this should be something as sacred as the oath he's given. "Not here, Sean," he repeats aloud, unaware of the command in his voice.

But Sean hears it, and shivers as he realizes what he must look like-shirtless, barefoot, on his knees before this man, who can command him with a word. And suddenly he wants, more than anything, wants the taste of Viggo on his tongue, to linger with him forever. His king commands, and he must obey. He sits back onto his heels, not without a whimper from Viggo. "Where then, Vig?"

Viggo hasn't let go of his hands all this time, and now uses them to draw Sean to his feet, then lets go to cup his face instead. "Peace, son of Gondor." He kisses Sean's brow lightly, the parting salute not lost on either man. "Take me home, Sean. Let's finish this vow."

And Sean realizes, not for the first time nor the last, that home is wherever his king is.


End file.
